


Ansrikesieg

by Philosophizes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Magic, fanfic of a fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosophizes/pseuds/Philosophizes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prussia drags Germany, who's always been rather uncomfortable with magic, along to the most important Wizarding celebration of the year.</p><p>A Harry Potter crossover only in technicality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ansrikesieg

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sunruner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunruner/gifts).



> This fanfiction is set in Sunruner's Snakeskins universe, found on [FFN](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9659426/1/Snakeskins) and more completely on [Tumblr](http://lsunnyc.tumblr.com/post/59114629055/snakeskins-pt-1-pottertalia-x-over).

If you were to locate Ansrikesieg on a map, you would place it in the woods around Kalkriese, where Armin of the Cherusci annihilated three Roman legions and their auxiliaries and his sister Ansrike destroyed the greatest Ancient Wizarding Rome could produce- forever protecting the Germanic tribes’ autonomy in all matters, magical and not, east of the Rhine.

Ansrikesieg was not like the other magical centers of Europe, tucked away in the cracks around non-magical cities. It was a product of witches and wizards, pure and simple.

Ludwig didn’t think he really wanted to go; but when he’d said as much, Gilbert had stared him down until he gave in.

_‘If Feli can spend whole years in an entirely foreign magical community, you can stand yours for a **day!** ’_

So that was how Ludwig found himself hunting through the house under Gilbert’s careful supervision for his wand.

“Ash, ten inches, woodwose hair core- Lutz, _what the hell._ You can’t just treat your wand like that!”

“I don’t ever _use_ it-”

“Yeah, and it’s an _ash wand._ It’s gonna be _pissed_ at you, little brother. Ash wands _cling._ ”

They eventually found it on top of a tall bookcase in the home library, still in its box, wedged against the juncture of ceiling and wall. It took some pulling to get loose, and eventually Gilbert pushed him aside and pointed his own wand at it, yanking the box out onto the library desk.

“And how do you know so much about wands?” Ludwig asked, a little irritated as he wrestled with the lock on the wand box. It came free with an unpleasant scraping sound.

“I _made_ you that wand,” Gilbert told him testily. “Ash; clings to its true master, best suited for those who are _stubborn_ and _way too attached to their ideas_. Woodwose hair; best for magics of the physical world, strongly tied to natural forces-”

Books started shooting from the shelves the moment Ludwig picked up his wand. He promptly dropped it again, and Gilbert slashed his through the air and froze the books midair.

“I _told_ you it would be pissed,” he snapped. “Go on, pick it up again.”

“But-”

“ _You’d be angry to if I locked you in a closet for a century! Pick it up and tell it you love it!_ ”

“I am _not_ saying that to a _stick!_ ”

The door slammed shut and Gilbert started glaring again.

Ludwig sighed, bent over, and picked his wand up off the floor. It still felt rough on the edge of his senses, like it was _trying_ to make him uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m not one for magic.”

The door creaked open again, slowly, and Gilbert sent the book back to their shelves with a few wide sweeping motions.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” he said. “Use the thing, come on. Give me a light show.”

Ludwig stared at his wand blankly, trying to remember the words.

“ _Sunnunlioht_ ,” he muttered eventually. The air around his wand glowed briefly, then fizzled out.

Gilbert sighed.

“Try doing it differently.”

Ludwig threw his hands up in disgust.

“It sounds _stupid!_ I feel ridiculous doing it! It’s just _‘sunlight’_ in Old High German! And what’s the _point_ in saying the word when I know what I want-”

Gilbert jabbed him in the chest with his wand.

“Did you not listen to a damn thing I said earlier _I made you a fucking **engineer’s** wand if it’s not working **do it differently!**_ ”

This time it was Ludwig glaring; but he thought about light as a byproduct of chemical reactions and how chemical reactions were really changes in the bonds of atoms so if he was producing ‘sorceless’ light did that mean magic was an energy of itself or was he breaking and reforming molecules of gases in the air to create new energy? and lights started to bloom and fade in time with the pace of the activity in his mind. He tried maintaining some of the shapes and a few stayed, trembling, and shed particles of light like sparks when he poked and prodded them around in the empty air between him and his brother.

“Good enough,” Gilbert pronounced, and pulled what looked like a long pendant from his pocket. “Hold on to this.”

Ludwig followed his brother’s example a little uncertainly, winding the steel chain once around his wrist before grabbing it and turning his back to the library window. The angled rock crystal disk, bound in gold, dangled and caught the nearly-set sun streaming in the window, scattering drops of light and faint rainbows across the room in front of them.

Gilbert flicked his wand at the light spots and started gathering them together in a pool on the floor a few meters beyond the pendant. Ludwig caught on a grabbed a few himself; then helped do the same with the rainbows to create two pools.

“Follow what I do,” he ordered, bending his elbow at a right angle.

He dragged a streamer of white light out of the pool across the floor, then up into the air. Ludwig met him up near the ceiling, ending the arch in a point. Next, they connected the point of the arch to its flat bottom with the rainbow.

 _Oh-_ they were making a door.

“Push,” Gilbert commanded; and together, they thrust their wands out. The space bounded by the white light slid inwards, filling the room with the sound of the outdoors.

“Apart.”

The space split along the rainbow line and the pieces slid out of sight beyond the edges of the doorway. Gilbert grabbed Ludwig’s arm and pulled him through quickly.

* * *

Ludwig arrived in Ansrikesieg after the sun had disappeared, but his first impression of the city was _bright._

The heart of the German Wizarding world was defined only by the boundary wards and illusions that befuddled surveillance equipment and unnoticeably rerouted anyone, Muggle or magical, who tried to simply _walk_ into Ansrikesieg straight around it- because what good were secrecy wards if everyone could tell where they were?

The city itself had started as a semi-permanent campsite for the Germanic tribes’ witches and wizards as different groups cycled in and out, trading new spells and goods and techniques, until habit had become tradition and tradition became law and the tents and small houses were replaced with halls.

The Cherusci were the first, followed by the Suebi, the Lugians, the Hermunduri, the Semnones, the Sibini, the Mugliones, the Quadi, the Zumi, the Butones, and the Lombards; the Franks, the Goths, and the Vandals; the Chatti, Marcomanni, Alamanni, Teutons, Cimbri, Frisii, Saxons, Angles, Jutes, and others whose names were lost.

They built in light and fire.

Ansrikesieg flowed out of and around the ancient halls, honey-brown and charcoal gray slate slab roads polished to a magical finish that had never dulled in centuries. Ludwig followed Gilbert out into the street and looked down only once, disorienting himself with the image of buildings and near-night sky and the rippling gold-dust wards reflected clear as day beneath his feet.

It was strangely deserted for this time- especially given he could feel a giant mass of humanity, like a weight on his mind, somewhere in the vicinity.

They passed rows of storefronts, all inside lights blazing through patterned stained-glass patchworks that defied being called windows only because there were no walls. The colors bled between panes at their movement by and formed signs and pictures that waved and called out silently, banderoles floating in the glass around their heads, advertising for owners who were clearly out. Streetlamps grew from twisting burnished brass corner poles on the buildings, glassy bulbs bulging out of the liquid metal that draped across alleyways and street entrances and flowed in latticework over crossroads and hung white-bright galaxies of stars around a central, burning sun of heat and light. Here, the streets sparkled.

The Nations reached a massive square, bound east and west on the edges by two of the halls, their walls solid sheets of hard light. Ludwig trailed his fingers across the nearest one, and it sparked under his touch, the tingle and shock like static electricity lighting his nerves. The disturbance rippled out across the building’s surface, shimmering rainbows on the edge of the wave crests like sea foam.

Gilbert nodded to the center of the square, where an old pair of European Ash and White Elm grew, branches tangled together in the spreading shadow of massive German Oak in a spreading bed of Polish Fire Flowers. Their petals had started to open for the night and were already burning brightly enough to leave afterimages if the steel protection circle inlaid in the cracked and spreading slate of the square, its shards still polished to mirror-sheen, hadn’t stayed intact on top of the tree root mound.

“That’s where I got the wood for your wand.”

Ludwig stared at the trees, and saw the sparkle of Alpine quartz pendants in the leaves of the oak as the bowtruckles skittered and chittered to each other in the darkness, making the twigs tremble.

“Why are we here, Gilbert?” he asked softly, not wanting to disturb the quiet.

“It’s Hildsnacht, Lutz,” his brother replied. “Today’s the two-thousand anniversary of Teutoberg.”

The gravitated to one of the brass-and-steel benches on the edge of the square, and Ludwig traced the inlaid runes, his mind trying to tell him what they said and failing to make a connection somewhere. Gilbert leaned back and kept a sharp eye out, waiting.

Presently, a witch emerged from the hall, carrying a neatly-folded pile of clothing. They stood to greet her, and she bent a bit at the knees after stopping in front of them.

“Good Hildsnacht, Sirs Beilschmidt.”

Prussia bowed extravagantly to her.

“Good Hildsnacht, Lady Hölzer.”

He straightened and elbowed his brother when he didn’t reach for the clothes she held, like he did.

“Ludwig, the Lady Mayor of Ansrikesieg. Sascha, the Federal Republic of Germany.”

Ludwig wasn’t sure if he was supposed to bow, or what, and ended up standing there awkwardly.

“He’s an idiot,” Gilbert continued. “First time he’s touched his wand in a century.”

Ludwig shoved him a little, and the Mayor smiled knowingly at them.

“I have lots of nieces and nephews,” she said by way of explanation when Ludwig gave her a curious look. “This is yours.”

The Mayor handed him the bottom stack of clothes. He unfolded them dubiously; and realized it was actually one item, a thick wool cloak, solid black on the outside, lined with flickering, simmering red on the inside. He touched it carefully, fully expecting it to burn like the embers it resembled. The fabric was warm on his hand, but not enough to hurt.

A swirl of color made him look over at Gilbert, who had a cloak of matching length and cut, lined in the same glowing starlight-white as the crossroads sun lamps. It settled over his shoulders and Gilbert fumbled at his neck for a moment, then pulled the pendant they’d used to open the gates to Ansrikeseig off. He threaded the chain through two holes in the corners of the cloak and pulled it tight. He let go- the steel chain parted by itself and fused to the edges of the gold mounting of the crystal, meeting again on the other side and hanging down to the hip.

Ludwig stared. Where Gilbert’s regular post-office slacks and t-shirt had been were now a set of… traditional magical dress? He was all monochrome and gold, fitted tunic covered by a black leather chest piece, stamped with the Prussian eagle thinly picked out in gilt; pants bound around the calves by what could have been riding-style gaiters or leg wraps, it was hard to tell. The bottom ends extended over white leather shoes, slightly pointed, with a toggle closure just visible on the insides of the feet.

Gilbert twirled his wand and a black felt hat- like the pointed stereotype, only lopped off about a third of the way up- appeared midair. He grabbed it and put it on, adjusting the thick white tassel in the back.

“It’s an _illusion,_ ” he said when he saw his brother staring. “They’re comfortable, cheaper than robes, and you can do crazy shit with them. Everybody has them. Get _moving,_ we’re going to be late to the ceremony.”

Ludwig put his cloak on and Gilbert produced another pendant from somewhere to fasten it shut and activate the illusion.

“What ceremony?” he asked, as the pendant gave up on him getting the fastening right and yanked itself out of his hold, finishing the job for him.

“The anniversary one, we have to preside, put your hat on, let’s _go._ ”

Gilbert materialized another hat, this one with a red tassle, and started following the Mayor back into the hall. Ludwig rushed a little to catch up and was momentarily captivated by the glint of glowing white, little shining pinpricks, that the omnipresent light revealed in the weave of his brother’s cloak.

* * *

The hall opened the same way the gates to Ansrikesieg did, but parted automatically. As they passed under the hard light walls an electric tingle passed all over Ludwig’s body, and all three of their wool cloaks started sparking and crackling with charge.

Gilbert dropped back next to his brother, letting the Mayor lead, as they approached a glass wall that looked like it has been frozen all in one sheet, rivulets running from the ceiling high above to the pooled, cooled glass on the floor. Dim colors shifted under the surface; and the entire thing glowed from the magical firelight visible from the gallery beyond the doorless entryway; a square, carved slate affair that had trails of glass around some of the features.

They entered the main hall and faced a sea of people- the entire population of Ansrikesieg, Ludwig thought a little dazedly- that parted only when the Mayor held her wand up over her head and set off a flash-bang to announce their arrival. A corridor cleared in front of them, and at the other end of the hall Ludwig could see a massive gray slate slab that served as a sort of stage, darkly offset and accentuated against the pure golden-brown of the floor and white light of the walls. A giant gold, white, and red banner hung behind it, a rampant griffin burned into the fabric. Ludwig knew, without anyone telling him, that _this_ was how his magical community represented him.

As they proceeded down the aisle cleared for them, the feeling of static increased. Magic started sparking everywhere, arcing between them and the people in the crowd, flickering and rumbling in the masses before discharging back into the walls. Ludwig’s uncertainty melted away- he felt _powerful,_ a man walking through a lighting storm.

The three of them reached the slate slab in short order and climbed the steps carved into it. As the Mayor stepped forward to address the crowd, Gilbert surreptitiously motioned to where Ludwig was supposed to stand. It took him a minute to notice- he was too interested in the decorations lining the back of the stage.

“Are those the standards of the defeated legions?” Ludwig asked under his breath, tilting his head a little towards the Roman _aquilae_ mounted into slots like flagpole stands.

“Seventeenth, nineteenth, and eighteenth,” Gilbert replied in the same tone. “And the armors of Publius Quinctilius Varus and Wizard-Patriarch of Rome. This is the Cherusci’s hall; and their war spoils.”

He glanced quickly at the proceedings.

“When Sascha gives the signal, you raise your wand and think of Germany.”

Ludwig didn’t have too long to ponder on that- the Mayor finished talking a few moments later, and he raised his wand as instructed and let himself go, a little bit, letting Ludwig sink back some and give Germany a bit more room to work and feel.  

Without actually thinking about it, the magic started flowing. This close to so many witches and wizards, all of them his own people, it didn’t matter that he’d dropped the magical part of him decades ago, before the first World War even, in favor of the science and factories and politics of his non-magical citizenry. _They_ knew what he was supposed to do; and he could hear it, a feeling more than anything, as he guided power out of himself to mix with Prussia’s and spread out over the heads of the crowd. It flowed and writhed and never really settled but more congealed, twisting around itself to form the outline of Germany itself- dim and bright, pulsing and still, by turns across its surface.

And Germany could feel himself spread out thin through the country, awareness following the pattern of the light-country, acutely attuned for the first time in his life to the breadth and depth of the magical half of him.

It was bright as to blind him, and warm as to incinerate him, and there were the humans but also the disquieting currents of the sentient magical beings and the fuzzy half-awake sluggishness of the wands and assorted magical items and the pulsing mindless auras of the magical creaturesand it should have been wrong, it should have been foreign and alien and something to reject and _fight_ but it wasn’t-

It all _fit;_ and that was why Ludwig had stopped doing this, because he wasn’t human and he knew it but Nations were surely only a few steps from it and what did it mean that something as foreign as a piece of wood could be almost a _person_ and he could recognize that-

Stubbornness let Ludwig keep up the magic through his quickly-mounting unease and follow Prussia’s motions to channel it into the wards of Ansrikesieg and keep them strengthened and the city running, because the power two Nations could call when they focuses was absurd.

In the hustle of the mob moving about and beginning to socialize, and what looked like the set-up for an epic feast later, Ludwig took himself off to an ignored corner and forced himself to dip back into the magical awareness he had and just couldn’t stomach long enough to remember how to apparate. The _crack_ was lost in the _boom_ of heavy wooden tables and benches, like the ones found in beerhalls, being summoned and floated into the clearing spaces.

Gilbert would come home and yell at him for this later- but for now Ludwig struggled out of the illusion-spelled cloak and hung it in the back of one of the less-used closets, out of sight, the hat and his wand, back in its box, on the shelf above it. He locked the closet firmly; then grabbed some work things he actually really didn’t need to worry about at all, took them into the living room, and turned the radio up loud, filling the house with the sound of electronically-edited rock and traffic reports.

A coffee cup cooling slowly on the side table, long term financial plans, a house powered by easily explainable math and thoroughly investigated scientific processes-

Nice, safe things.


End file.
